


Angel Touch

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Kinktober 2019 [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley in a skirt, Crowley wearing a Corset, Dirty Talk, Lots of it, M/M, Smut, Table Sex, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21037148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: "Angel, you're going to make me come if you keep doing that."He hums again, that is precisely the point of this, thank you very much. Crowley lets out another moan, hand finally managing to get under the skirt to grip Aziraphale's hair. It's intoxicating, the sting of having his hair pulled and the weight of Crowley's prick in his mouth. Crowley comes with a moan, hand tightening its hold to an almost painful grip. Aziraphale sucks it all down, like the finest wine and then continues his ministrations until Crowley is hard again. Only then does he leave the warmth of Crowley's skirt.





	Angel Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Day Twelve Cross dressing, biting

There are many, many, many things that Aziraphale loves about Crowley. His confidence in switching about his metaphysical form between male and female presenting, the effortless way he holds up his head and yet walks so loose limbed, it's just one of them. Aziraphale knows that * _ he _ * doesn't have that confidence. Can't bear the thought of doing much more than changing small things about his physical self. So he drinks in the sight of his lover, pale skin seeming to glow in the sunlight, sitting in one of Aziraphale's plush chairs. He is wearing a corset today, possibly feeling like a she instead of he, it's pitch black with bright white stitching. The skirt that covers long legs is a dark red, almost black that looks temptingly soft. Crowley smirks.

"See something you like, Angel?"

He takes the three steps needed to reach Crowley, drops to his knees and touches. Touches the velvet of the skirt, the softness of the skin underneath. He looks up at his lover through his lashes.

"Always, my dear."

He feels a bout of confidence strike him.

"What am I going to find when I lift this skirt? A gorgeous cock that is begging for me to suck it? Or will there be a lovely clit for me to lick?"

There is silence and Aziraphale wonders if he did it wrong. Crowley is typically the one who speaks so. His voice making even the dirtiest things sound like high praise. Oh, how Crowley makes Aziraphale blush with pleasure. Long fingered hands reach down, pull him up and he goes willingly to kiss and be kissed.

"A prick that I want to bury inside you," Crowley whispers when they pull apart. A shudder, a quiver, of desire runs down his spine. He kisses Crowley again, hands buried deep in red hair. He grinds down, enjoying the hiss it gets him.

"I think I would like that."

And then he shimmies back down. Crowley will have his way with him, maybe in the chair, maybe on the floor, but right now he wants something else. Aziraphale lifts up the skirt, presses kisses to long legs as his mouth travels upward. Silk and lace meet his lips as he mouths Crowley's growing erection. The skirt acting like a tent the angel uses his mouth to pull down those delightful panties so that he can take Crowley into his mouth. 'Blow jobs'. He quite likes them. Likes the noises that he can wring from his lover like this. The moans, the whimpers, the whispered pleas and hands scrabble and grapple. He can feel Crowley writhing, hips pumping shallowly. Aziraphale hums a low note, smiling as Crowley spasms.

"Angel, you're going to make me come if you keep doing that."

He hums again, that is precisely the point of this, thank you very much. Crowley lets out another moan, hand finally managing to get under the skirt to grip Aziraphale's hair. It's intoxicating, the sting of having his hair pulled and the weight of Crowley's prick in his mouth. Crowley comes with a moan, hand tightening its hold to an almost painful grip. Aziraphale sucks it all down, like the finest wine and then continues his ministrations until Crowley is hard again. Only then does he leave the warmth of Crowley's skirt.

“ You-”

“ Me,” Aziraphale says cheekily. His jaw is sore, aching but a kiss from Crowley eases it. Makes it go to the very back of Aziraphale's mind. He's straddling Crowley's lap, pressing kisses to a long neck.

“ I do believe you said something about burying your prick in me,” he reminds his lover. There is a movement of hands, a slight flick and Aziraphale feels his trousers and pants vanish leaving him naked from the hips down. He pouts.

“ Don't worry, Angel, I'm not going to prep you like that,” Crowley says. He has one hand on Aziraphale's hip while the other digs in the small coffee table next to the chair.

“ Table, I want you to have me on the table.”

He pulls Crowley up, kissing and grinding as they walk towards one of the many tables that he has on the upper levels of his shop. Books are pushed to the side so that he can hop up and give Crowley room to prep him.

His lover takes great pleasure in opening him up, one finger at a time. Moving it in time with soft panting breaths and jerky movements of the angels hips. One finger becomes two becomes three and then Aziraphale is on his stomach with Crowley inside him. He lets out a happy moan, nuzzling the velvet skirt that is draped over him like a blanket.

“ Don't hold back, darling,” he says, pushing backwards into Crowley. The pick up the tempo of their movements. Hard, hard, hitting his prostate over and over again. He feels his climax building, Crowley is whispering such sweet filthy things in Latin. Promises of a good breeding, of fucking Aziraphale until the angel can't move.

“ Yes. Please. Please.”

The words fall from his lips and Crowley eats it up, hips stuttering and words becoming slurred. It feels so good. And then Crowley starts to bite. On the juncture of his neck and shoulder. On his shoulder. The back of his neck. He feels his skin break. Feels the blood start to flow down. The sting builds, builds and then he's screaming in ecstasy. Crowley's licking away the blood, still pounding into him, milking Aziraphale for every drop. He can feel himself hardening again.

“ That's it, Angel, get hard for me. Rock into me. Make those pretty little noises. Love watching you take me. Love watching you cum. Nothing prettier than knowing I tempted you so,” Crowley is whispering. He's movements are erratic and the s's are starting to be drawn out.

“ Going to breed you good. Fill you up with my seed until an egg is sitting pretty in you. Going to have you scream my name. Can you do that, Angel? Would you?”

“ Yes,” Aziraphael gasps out, head thrown back. He'd do anything for Crowley.

  
“ Crowley,” he keens as the demon bites down again. He's found his second climax as he shudders in pleasure as Crowley finds his. He can feel the come drip out as Crowley continues to thrust inside him. It shouldn't feel as good as it does and god does it feel  _ better _ than heaven. Beyond heaven. He relaxes into an Aziraphale shaped goo puddle. He trusts Crowley to clean up the mess and lets his corporeal form rest.

**Author's Note:**

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